


The Adoption of Betsy H. McGraw

by Garnet_EveSky



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Adoption, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Pets, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garnet_EveSky/pseuds/Garnet_EveSky
Summary: James' neighbour has passed away, and he has been left with looking after the little cat after Officer McHotPants dropped her off on his doorstep.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16
Collections: Black Sails Holiday Exchange 2020





	The Adoption of Betsy H. McGraw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueerCrusader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerCrusader/gifts).



James has managed to have a breakfast of a jam muffin and a cup of tea, when there is a knock at his front door at 7.37am. He answers it in his pyjamas, barefoot and tying his robe closed with the belt, a few crumbs in his moustache and a wary look.

On the other side of the door is a police officer in a clean and freshly pressed uniform, sunglasses perched on top of a head of short blonde hair, and the bluest eyes James has ever seen, a bit of a smirk on the officer’s lips, and James feels his pulse flutter. The man is slightly taller than him, and he has to tilt his head back a fraction to meet the blue eyes.

“Yes, Officer?” James tries, thankful that his voice doesn’t crack, because frankly, this police officer is a wet dream in a uniform.

“Yes, um, Mr...Flint?” The blonde haired officer looks at the letters in his hand before handing them to James, “Sorry to bother you so early. Do you know your neighbour, Randall Bettsford?”

“Hardly,” James replies, taking the offered letters, his fingers briefly touching the fingertips of the other man, and setting them on the hallway table just inside his front door, “ I know he works night shifts, because his cat scratches and meows the walls down every night.” The officer’s fingertips were dry and warm James noticed as an afterthought.

“Mr Bettsford passed away last night at work, I’m afraid,” the hot cop explains, picking up a box that Flint hadn’t noticed beside his feet, “Do you mind if I might come in and ask a few questions?”

“Um, sure,” James steps back and allows the officer inside, the man carries the box with both hands, before placing it gently on the coffee table and standing back, training his eyes on James, and he doesn’t miss the interested bye eyed glance down at the open neck of his pyjama shirt.

“It seems that Mr Bettsford has no relatives, and I’m quite reluctant to take his cat to the pound lest she be put down.”

“Um,” James blinks, holding his hands up, “I really don’t have time for a pet, I don’t even know what to do with a cat.”

“Cats are quite simple, Mr Flint,” Officer McDreamy says as he opens the cardboard box, and lifts out a small fluff of a thing, all white, with brown and black patchwork, “They sleep, eat, play, and, in the middle of the night?”

Flint blinks at the officer as he pets the cat behind the ears, cooing and talking in a high pitched voice, “At night, you make zoomies, don’t you? Yes you do!”

“I can’t have a cat,” James tries again, “I have to go to work in fifteen minutes, and I don’t have a kitty litter tray, or food, or a basket for it.”

“Betsy.” The police officer says.

“Sorry?” James blinks, and reluctantly holds his hands out as the police officer presses the bundle of white fluff into his arms. James gets a scent of cologne and reminds himself not to breathe too deeply.

“Her name. Betsy,” The cop replies, brushing white cat hair from his navy blue shirt, Flint imagines it’s his hands that are brushing away the cat hair, that he can feel muscles and abs under that slim fitting shirt.

“I have no cat toys!” James adds.

“Mr Flint, if you leave your keys with me, I can bring everything over from Mr Bettsfords’ unit and set it up here for you while you head in to work, and lock up when I’m done.”

“I don’t even know you,” James places the cat on the sofa, and it promptly sits down and starts cleaning its paws, “Or your name, or _if_ you even work for the police department.”

“Inspector Thomas Hamilton,” Sexy cop replies, “Here’s my business card, I really would appreciate you taking Betsy, to be quite honest. She’s an older cat and wouldn’t do well in the pound at all. People want kittens, you see, and her chances of finding a family are quite slim.”

James hesitates, torn between allowing the police inspector to stay and set up for the cat, or telling him no. He sighs.

“Just set her up in the bathroom,” James relents, taking the business card, his fingers brushing once again against Inspector Hamiltons’ as he does, and he clears his throat at the spark he feels from that simple touch, “Don’t open any doors that are closed. I’m going to get ready for work.”

“Thankyou Mr Flint,” the Inspector smiles, as he backs out of the room and towards the front door, “I’ll leave you to it, but I’ll be back before you go to finish setting her up.”

James nods and watches as Hamilton walks out, closing the door behind him. Damn, he could watch him walk away all day, but instead, he turns and looks at the cat, who has now made herself comfortable against one of his sofa cushions, “Please, make yourself at home.”

Huffing, he moves to get ready for work. He never knew Randall, but he’s saddened by his passing regardless. The cat? He’ll have to wait and see.

\--

When James returns home later that night, he has quite forgotten that he has a new room mate, and is greeted by an eager cat, swiping its tail against his legs and generally getting underfoot as he tries to walk to the kitchen.

On the kitchen counter there is a bag of dry cat food, a box of wet food pouches, a few other items he will need, a brush, some toys and treats, along with a note.

_“Mr Flint,_

_Thankyou for taking Betsy in. I’m sure she’ll settle in quite well._

_You’ll need to feed her twice a day, breakfast when you wake, and dinner around seven. She has a water bowl set next to the door, which will need to be changed daily, as will her litter._

_Her kitty litter has been set up in your bathroom as requested, and her basket next to your sofa._

_I’ve given you what Mr Bettsford had in his unit for her, along with one of his old shirts in case she starts to mourn him._

_If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call._

_Regards_

_Thomas  
(Inspector Hamilton)_

James smiles at the note, paying attention to the officer’s first name, noting that there is a mobile number scribbled on the back of the page, and pets Betsy behind her ears when she jumps onto the counter.

“Ready for dinner?” James asks her, scratching behind one of her furry ears, and receives a meow in reply. 

After they have both eaten, Betsy at her bowl, and James later with a cat next to him on the sofa, James turns in for the night, only to have the cat jump on the bed and fall asleep at his feet.

James could get used to this, he thinks to himself as he drifts off to the sound of purring.

\-----

A clatter in his room jerks James from his sleep, and he’s upright in bed trying to locate the sound.

A skittering on his floorboards has him turning his bedside lamp on, and he sees a flash of white before another skittering and thud comes from down his hallway. His bedside clock tells him it’s 4.48am.

Hell.

“Betsy!” James hisses into the hallway, but all that does is send her skittering along the floorboards again, meowing and churrping as she trots back to him with a felt ball in her mouth.

“Oh hell no,” James grumbles, “It’s too early for playtime. Go to sleep.”

Betsy churrps again, dropping the ball at his feet, and batting at it with her paw.

James watches as one of her claws attaches to the felt ball, and the cat flings the ball into the air as she shakes her paw, before pouncing after it, crashing into the wall again.

James frowns. This is all the Inspectors’ fault, and if he has to go without sleep, he believes that the inspector should as well.

He takes a few photos of the cat as she bounces and skitters across the floor in chase of the felt ball before falling on her side on his bed and promptly falling asleep.

 _You said Betsy would settle down!_ he messaged to the number on the back of Hamilton’s handwritten note, which he had instantly saved to his contact list, along with a photo of Betsy, which is really just a blur of white, _This is not settling down. It’s 5am for christ sake!_

Not a minute later, his phone dings, it’s Hamilton.

 _Good morning to you too,_ comes the reply with a smiley emoji face, _I hope she didn’t keep you up all night._

_Slept on my bed all night actually._

_See? She does like you._

_Not at 5am she doesn’t._

_When do you usually wake? If I may be so bold._

_5.30_ Replies James, _That’s beside the point. I thought someone had broken in._

 _Let me make it up to you,_ comes the reply, _Coffee tomorrow?_

_How do I know this isn’t just a ploy to dump some more cats on me?_

_I guess you’ll just have to take that chance_

Thomas told James where to meet him the next day, and what time, and that night, Betsy still slept on his bed. She woke him up at promptly 4.55am with some devil-like howling in his ear, but James didn’t mind too much, as he was going to see Hot Inspector for lunch, and he couldn’t fault her for that.

\-----

James feeds Betsy her breakfast and spends some time teasing her with a string of yarn while sipping his tea. He’s due to meet Thomas at twelve, and so he can relax for a while, scratching out words on his daily crossword puzzle from the paper.

At eleven, he leaves the apartment and walks to the cafe they had agreed upon, and sits himself at an outside table so Thomas will be able to easily find him, and orders a cold water to sip on while he waits. 

The cafe is on a quiet street, and trees that are almost as high as the two-storey buildings dot the street, the sun filtering through the leaves and onto the pavement below. There are an assortment of customers at the cafe, from mothers with prams and toddlers in tow with their friends, business folk who are lining up for takeaway coffees only to rush back to their offices, and one table of young adults, all on their phones, with bowls half empty of fries and half-drunk iced chocolates scattered across their table.

James has his gaze fixed on a pigeon strutting near the table of teenagers looking for crumbs, when a shadow drops over him,and he looks up to the blue gaze of Officer Hottie.

“Thomas, hi,” James greets, standing and shaking the man’s hand as Thomas greets him in return, his hand large and warm in James’ hold.

The pair order their food, and sit down at right angles to each other instead of the usual opposite seats, and Thomas immediately asks how Betsy is settling in. 

“It’s only been two days,” James laughs, “I think we need at least a week to get to know each other a little better before I can make any sort of judgement on how our relationship will develop.”

There’s a slight smile on Thomas’ face when James looks up from placing his coffee mug down, and his stomach does a little flip.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” Thomas says, reaching out to take James’ hand in his own, “I think that the relationship will work out quite fine, don’t you agree, James?”

James feels the weight of Thomas’ hand in his own, looks down to where it lays against his nervous-damp palm, then back up into those blue eyes gazing at him kindly.

He watches as Thomas’ eyes dip to his mouth as he wets his dry lips, his pupils flaring a tad wider.

“I think that there is room to explore this relationship further,” James considers his words carefully, “I haven’t, ah, owned a cat, for quite some time. I might be a bit rusty at it.”

Thomas nods his agreement, “Perhaps we can go for dinner next week, Tuesday? See how we handle this?” Thomas motions between them with his spare hand.

“I’d like that,” James replies, squeezing Thomas’ hand in his.

\-----

Over the next week, James and Thomas text each other, talking about their days, their hobbies and interests, their jobs, and finally, the day of their dinner date arrives.

The place they decide on is a small out-of-the-way diner, cheesy eighties music, greasy fries and tall burgers. James decides on a basket of hot wings, and Thomas has chosen a bacon cheeseburger, with the threat of serious retribution should James attempt to steal any bacon from his burger. James silently plans to take it once Thomas’ attention is elsewhere, if only to see what punishment the man would deem appropriate.

James offers Thomas a wing, but the man declines, holding on to his burger, long fingers curling around the sides and back of his meal, protecting his precious bacon as if his life depended on it, and James just laughs and takes a drink of his beer.

The pair chat about how Betsy has settled in more, and how she now she regularly plays fetch with James, and Thomas gently reminds him that he’s seen the videos James has sent, and without thinking, James tells Thomas she is cuter in person, and he should come over and see if she’ll fetch the felt ball for him.

Thomas offers James a soft smile, and reaches across to take James’ greasy hand in his own, and brings the limb to his mouth to kiss knuckles covered in hot sauce.

James laughs when Thomas’ face turns red and his blue eyes water when he tastes the hot sauce as he returns to his burger, and wipes his hands on a napkin before reaching over with a clean napkin to dab at the sauce smeared over James’ digits. James feels a blush creeping across his cheeks at the gentle touch, and Thomas grins and blinks back tears as he meets James’ eyes.

James ends up letting Thomas keep the bacon.

\--

It’s two and a bit months later when James realises that he and Thomas have been dating. They have been spending every spare moment with one another, and James can’t pinpoint the moment where they went from casual acquaintances to the first and last thing James thinks about in his day more often than not.

If James had realised sooner, he might have panicked and cut contact with the man, but he has to admit there is a spark there, was there when they went to dinner and Thomas had kissed his sauce covered knuckles, then abruptly went red in the face from the condiments heat.

Instead, James takes Thomas to his favourite bookstore where they browse the aisles discussing anything and everything literature. Thomas surprises him with an opera on a lawn under the stars, and as the night cools, they move closer on the blanket spread beneath them, until they’re tucked together tight to share each other's warmth. All James can smell as he drifts off to sleep alone in his bed later, is the cinnamon and red wine smell of Thomas.

Eventually James collects the fragmented pieces of his nerves that have frayed over the past weeks, and asks Thomas to visit him so James can cook him dinner one night. Thomas agrees with delight, and James begins his planning and preparations.

\--

James is flustered and a tad sweaty when Thomas knocks on the door announcing his arrival for dinner. He takes a breath and heads to the door, opening to be greeted by Thomas dressed in a cream shirt and tight blue jeans, a black jacket over his arm, and he’s holding out a bottle of red wine, and as James steps back holding the door open for the other man, Thomas steps past and kisses him briefly on the cheek. The scent of cinnamon follows the blonde man, and James follows him to the kitchen, where Betsy has made herself at home on the counter in James’ brief absence.

“There’s my girl,” Thomas coos at the cat as he reaches to scratch her behind the ear, and Betsy starts purring loud enough that she can be heard over the soft background music James had put on earlier, “She’s looking very well, such a good kitty.”

“You only saw her last week,” James reminds Thomas as he opens the wine and pours them half a glass before taking the drinks to the table where he had finished dishing up as Thomas knocked, “She looks as well as she did then.”

“Betsy is a beautiful kitty-baby who deserves all the love and scritches she can cope with,” Thomas baby talks to Betsy once more, and it makes James’ stomach do weird things.

“Yes well, Betsy will still be here when we finish dinner, but dinner won’t stay hot for the amount of time it takes to give her all the love she demands.”

“I think someone is jealous of your scritches,” Thomas tells Betsy before picking her up from the counter and placing her on the floor with a pat.

As they sit and eat, Thomas compliments James on his cooking, and James tells him the wine is the perfect accompaniment to the meal. Once they finish, Thomas tops up their wine, and they head to the couch where James sits first, and Thomas sits next to him, thigh pressing warmly against James. Betsy, who had been lying on the sofa, jumps down and trots away to the bathroom with her tail held high to eat her dinner, and James follows her with his eyes, mentallly thanking the cat for giving them privacy.

“That was a lovely dinner, James,” Thomas tells him, taking James' glass and placing both on the coffee table in front of the couch, “The company though, that was perfection.”

“The wine was almost as good, wouldn’t you say?” James laughed as Thomas gave him a sly wink at the words.

“I have something for you, as a matter of fact,” Thomas said as he reached over to his jacket he’d left on the arm of the couch when he arrived, and handed James a piece of folded paper.

“What’s this?” James asked, taking it from Thomas, his fingers unsure.

“Just open it,” Thomas prompted, “Read it.”

James opened the folded paper and looked at what had been printed on it. With a smile, that turned into a confused frown, he looked up at Thomas, “This is an adoption certificate for Betsy?”

Thomas smiled and nodded.

James floundered for words, “When did you do this?”

“After we had breakfast,” Thomas explained, thinking back to how James pretended to sneak his sauce covered fingers towards the bacon on his burger when Thomas wasn’t looking, “You were talking about Betsy with such care and love in your words, and I just, I just wanted to do something for you, seeing as I was the one who dumped her on you in the first place.”

James looked from the paper in his hands to Thomas’ eyes, then back again, “That was months ago Thomas.”

“Read on,” Thomas prompted.

James continued reading, and Thomas blushed when James looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You,” James tried, he felt speechless. “How? Why? You want…”

“James, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” Thomas said to him, reaching out and taking one of James’ hands in his own, “I’ve not gotten on with anyone as well as how we do. Our interactions remain in my mind for weeks after they’ve occurred. Your ability to care for and love such a little life like Betsy, your generosity and your, just _you_ , in all your wholeness.”

James smiled and blushed, his eyes looking down at their joined hands, and he put the paper down and returned Thomas’ gentle hold.

“I wake in the morning, and your face is the first thing in my mind,” Thomas goes on, watching James intently, “Your laughter is the last thing I hear at night as I wish for the heat of you beside me.”

“Thomas,” James closes his eyes, the words almost too much for him, he takes a small breath.

“James?” Thomas asks, reaching out to touch James on his cheek with one warm, dry palm, “Is this too much for you, love?”

“No,” James breathes, “It’s how I’ve felt for weeks, months even.”

“I would wake up next to you each morning,” Thomas continues, leaning a little closer to James, encouraging the red haired man to lift his chin and meet his eyes, “I want to spend my time with you, knowing you, caring for and loving you,”

James meets Thomas’ wide eyed gaze, seeing the love and need in the clear blue eyes, he leans forward a little, closing the gap between them ever so slightly, “I need you, Thomas, by my side, with me, you’re a craving I cannot satiate, no matter how hard I’ve tried,”

“Now why would you ever want to do that?” Thomas gives a small laugh at that, closes the distance between them, and presses his lips ever so carefully to the bow of James’ lips, holding there, enjoying the desire increasing between them, feeling James sigh a breath across his cheek before he returns the gentle kiss.

It’s Thomas that pulls back first when he feels Betsy swipe her tail against his leg, and James lets a low whine of need out as they part.

“There’s my little girl,” Thomas coos at Betsy, picking her up and setting the cat down between them, petting her gently before looking at James, “I believe your daddy has a decision to make,”

James gives Betsy a soft stroke between her ears then looks at Thomas, what is Thomas to him now? Friend? Lover? Partner?

He has a decision to make.

Standing, he reaches out to Thomas, who takes his extended hand, and pulls the taller man flush against him, from shoulder to thigh, he can feel _everything_ , every want, every desire, every wish, and it’s a heady feeling for James.

“Come, love,” Thomas coos into James' ear in the same manner he cooed to Betsy, pulling him towards James’ bedroom, “Let’s go make good on this adoption then.”

On the couch, Betsy sees the paper, and as cats tend to do, curls up on it, tucking her paws underneath her body, the adoption certificate wrinkling under her weight.

Certificate of Adoption

_This certifies that_

Betsy

_Has officially been adopted by_

James McGraw  
&  
Thomas Hamilton

_On this day_  
12/6/2018

_We promise to love and care for you, always._


End file.
